


I'll Love You Forever

by Thedarkpassenger98



Category: The Walking Dead & Related Fandoms, The Walking Dead (TV)
Genre: Incest, M/M, Parent-Child Relationship, Parent/Child Incest, Slash
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-02-07
Updated: 2017-02-14
Packaged: 2018-09-22 14:13:22
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 4
Words: 6,206
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9610967
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Thedarkpassenger98/pseuds/Thedarkpassenger98
Summary: Carl and his father have always been close -- maybe a little too close. In this apocalyptic world, the rules are blurred and the bonds more intense. Snapshots of the developing relationship between Carl and his father.





	1. The End of the World

**Author's Note:**

> This is my first work on here, and this chapter is kind of just a little introduction. There will be some time skips, as I'm assuming we've all watched the show, so it's not going to be a retelling. If you don't like this pairing, simple solution is just not to read it! I hope someone enjoys :)

Even before the apocalypse, Carl and his father had been close, had shared a bond that Carl’s mother couldn’t forge with him no matter how hard she tried. Eventually she gave up, conceding that there was just something between the boy and Rick that she couldn’t touch. Although she was still filled with a slight jealousy every now and then, watching the two interacting without words, mirroring each other’s movements subconsciously, almost always together, she understood that there was really nothing she could do about it. She’d just have to accept it.

After Rick was shot and went into the coma, Carl had been understandably upset. What Lori didn’t anticipate was his resentment towards her, almost as if it was her fault. Of course he was too young to really, fully understand, but it still hurt her to see his anger and sadness when she was there instead of his father, instead of his beloved Rick. He didn’t really want anything to do with her. Every day they would go visit Rick, hold his hand, try and talk to him, try and get him to respond in some way, but soon every day became every other day, and every other day became a couple times a week, and so on and so forth. The whole ordeal was wearing on Lori. Carl’s anger, Rick’s lifeless body, all the household responsibilities falling on her in his absence, everyone’s sympathy, the hopeful words turning into pitying smiles and shoulder squeezes. She just couldn’t do it anymore. She didn’t want to see him like that, didn’t really want Carl to see him like that. If he was going to die, she just wanted him to up and die already so it could be over.

And she hated herself for thinking that, but it was true.

“Why don’t we go to see Dad anymore?” Carl asked one day on the way home from school, eyes downcast and shoulders slumped. Lori couldn’t remember the last time she’d seen him smile.

“We do see him, Carl,” Lori said, trying not to let her voice quiver. She’d been hoping he wouldn’t bring this up. 

“Not since last week! I don’t care if you don’t love him anymore, but I still do.”

Lori bit her lip. She didn’t know Carl had noticed the coldness between her and Rick that had started well before the accident. They’d tried to hide him from their relationship problems, but obviously he was more intuitive than they gave him credit for. 

“Carl! Why would you say something like that? Of course I still love your father, things have just been really busy for me, and there’s nothing we can do until he wakes up. Being there isn’t going to change anything. He’ll come to when it’s his time.”

Lori knew it was a poor excuse, that Carl would still be mad at her and that he still wanted to see his ailing father, even just to touch his skin or look at his face, but she had to try and defend her actions. Carl just glared.

“I’ll get Shane to take me if you won’t,” is all he said, arms crossed and lower lip stuck out in a stubborn pout. 

Lori sighed, and nodded her head. 

An hour later all three of them were at the hospital — Lori, Carl, and Shane.  
After that, Lori and Shane took turns taking him every other day, letting Carl sit there and read his dad books, lay his head on his chest, and tell him about his day at school, or how Shane had moved into the house temporarily to lighten Lori’s load. It didn’t really matter. Rick still lay motionless on that cot. 

Soon, even Carl started to understand the futility of the situation.

……………………………………………………………………………………………………………

When the news started getting bad and Shane came and took them away, Carl threw the biggest tantrum Lori had ever seen, crying and screaming that they couldn’t leave dad. No matter how hard she and Shane tried to explain to him that they simply had to go, Carl was too young and too upset to understand. Lori was crying too, watching as Shane forcefully picked Carl up and sat him in the backseat. She felt horrible, but as they were about to leave, what looked like a walking corpse was spotted about 100 yards down the street from their house, and she knew there was no other choice, and that there was no more hope.

……………………………………………………………………………………………………………….

Seeing as Carl was so young, it didn’t take him long to adapt. Lori and Shane explained best they could that his dad wasn’t going to be coming back, that there was nothing they could do, that the entire world was basically falling apart, and he did his best to move on. Or at least, the best that a 10 year old boy could do. He liked Shane, and thought the man was a decent surrogate father, showing him the ropes of this new, hardened life. He was no replacement, but he was something, at least. He tried. What Carl didn’t like, however, was Shane’s increasing closeness to Lori. At first it had made sense — he was Rick’s best friend, helping out as best he could. But now he could see that the two were a little too close. Living in the wild had forced Carl to grow up at a much more rapid pace — he’d seen and heard some things going on in the tents at night that a boy his age probably shouldn’t have seen or heard. And it wasn’t even just at night, either. When he eventually heard and saw these things going on with Shane and his mom once, his suspicions were confirmed. Despite not understanding the whole situation completely, he knew he’d seen something that he shouldn’t, and felt an odd sense of betrayal burning in his chest.

He was even colder to Lori after that, although she would never guess why. He also was a lot more careful when exploring the woods. He really didn’t want to see that again.

……………………………………………………………………………………………………………….

Just as he was truly starting to get used to this new life, accepting it for what it was, Carl’s world was turned upside down yet again — and for that matter, so was Lori’s. Everyone had been worried as the small group that went out for a run was taking way too long to return, so when the car showed up, everyone was relieved. But when Rick emerged, the mysterious newcomer, Carl’s “dead” father, the boy couldn’t believe his eyes.

“Dad!” he cried, running into the man’s arms, nearly in tears. He wrapped his arms around his father’s neck, burying his nose in the familiar smell. He felt his mom behind him, also leaning in to hug his father. It was the most overwhelming feeling he’d ever felt, and he realized it was pure love. 

Later that night, Carl slipped into bed next to his father, who circled an arm around the boy’s small waist. 

“I love you, Dad,” Carl whispered, peaking up into the striking blue eyes that mirrored his own.

“I love you too, Carl,” Rick whispered back fondly, kissing him on the temple before they both drifted off to sleep.


	2. First Kiss

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Carl tries to console his father on Hershel's farm.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Jumping to the farm, where we explore the close relationship between the Grimes boys a little further

Rick was visibly upset, stalking around the field at the farm as if he was either going to slaughter something or sink to the ground in tears. It made Carl worried to see his father like this as he was usually so level-headed, and also because his mom had seemed a little off lately too. 

“Dad?” he called, running over to where his dad had now turned to stare, seeming shocked and slightly pissed that someone was interrupting his stewing. When he saw that it was Carl, though, his eyes softened and he bent down so that the boy could run into his arms.

“Hey, buddy,” Rick said, giving a shallow grin that did little to conceal his inner turmoil. Even so, it did always make him feel at least slightly better to see his son, alive and running around like a normal kid should.

He wrapped his arms around his son and picked him up, spinning him in a little circle before setting him back down again. 

“What’re you doin’ out here?” Rick asked, ruffling the boy’s hair.

“I saw you. You looked kinda upset,” Carl answered honestly, unable to stop the smile from forming on his lips when his dad held him close like that. There was something comforting about his father’s strong arms and that musky scent that clung to his clothes. It was sweat and dirt and hard work and everything Carl admired. Every once in a while he’d get to sleep with his dad curled around him, if he had a nightmare, and those were the best nights where he could just lie there and breathe in that delicious scent, his father’s stubble tickling his forehead. He’d never admit to it, but sometimes he faked the nightmares just so he could sleep in those muscular arms. It was one of the only times he actually felt safe and at peace in this cruel new world.

“I’m not upset Carl,I just… I have a lot on my plate right now,” Rick smiled weakly, trying to reassure the boy. He shouldn’t be burdened by these adult problems.

“Oh. I’m sorry dad. I’ll leave you alone then,” Carl said guiltily, obviously disappointed at having to leave.

“Noooo you don’t,” Rick said, grabbing the boy’s arm and pulling him back around. “You’re the only thing that makes me feel better, Carl,” he said, tugging the boy back in for another prolonged hug, burying his face in Carl’s neck. And Rick wasn’t lying. Seeing his boy filled him with a sense of relief and calm he rarely felt anymore these days. Maybe it was something about the innocence, the hope for the future. Rick couldn’t quite place it, but it was there. Carl was his anchor. 

This action also filled Carl with a beaming sense of pride. His father wanted him there. He made Rick happy. It felt good to please his dad, to be wanted, and Carl returned the hug enthusiastically, kissing his father on the cheek while they were intertwined. His mother seemed to constantly be annoyed by him and his antics, but his father made him feel appreciated, like a man, and like a real asset to the team despite his young age. He wanted to be held in this embrace all the time, but all too soon Rick let him go, and the worried expression on his face momentarily returned.

“Dad, what’s wrong? You can talk to me about it, I won’t tell anyone,” Carl prodded further, making the motion of zipping his lips shut and tossing an imaginary key. This prompted a small laugh from his father and an affectionate tickle, causing Carl to shriek and jump away. Even with this small distraction, however, he wouldn’t let up. “Come on Dad, you can tell me.”

Rick sighed and sat down in the grass, pulling Carl into his lap, running his long fingers through Carl’s dark hair.

“Son… you’re going to be a big brother,” he said through gritted teeth. It was obvious Rick wasn’t necessarily jumping for joy.

“Really? Mommy’s pregnant?” 

“Yep,” Rick said, short and unemotional.

“Does that make you sad?” Carl asked, secretly hoping maybe his dad was mad because he didn’t want any kids besides Carl himself. But that didn’t end up being the case.

“No Carl, it’s not that. I’m… I’m glad your mother’s having it. It’s just more about… honesty. And secrets. I don’t know how much you know about… you know… the mechanics of making a little brother or sister but…” Rick trailed off awkwardly, unsure of how to convey to Carl that he wasn’t even sure the kid was his. He’d never had “the talk” with Carl, and he was pretty sure Lori hadn’t either. The kid was still pretty young, but Rick supposed he was probably old enough to be told about it — in this day and age, one could never be too careful. But Carl surprised him.

“I know enough. Mom’s been keeping secrets I guess?” 

“Yeah. She’s been keepin’ secrets,” Rick confirmed, resting his head on Carl’s shoulder, continuing to run through his hair. “But it’ll be alright. I… we’ll work it out.”

Carl felt a shock of intense dislike for his mother course through him. He immediately felt kind of bad at the feeling, but he couldn’t help it. She was in the wrong, and she’d hurt Rick. Good Rick, who’d done nothing but try and keep her and their family safe. Their whole group safe. 

“I’m sorry,” Carl murmured, turning around to hug his dad around the neck. “You’re the best dad ever. I love you.”

Rick was surprised at how sincere Carl seemed, how mature. Like he actually felt bad for Rick. Honestly he was touched, rubbing circles on the boy’s back.

“I love you too Carl. And you don’t have to feel bad about this, like I said, we’re working it out. I’ll get over it.”

“You shouldn’t have to get over it! Shane is… Shane is an asshole!” 

“Watch your mouth!” Rick said, shocked at the sudden outburst. “And Shane? How do you know about…” 

“I’m not stupid,” Carl muttered. “And I’m a lot more mature than you guys give me credit for.”

Rick sighed and shook his head. He didn’t even want to know how Carl really found out about Lori and Shane. He sincerely hoped it wasn’t anything traumatizing. 

“You’re right. You’re very mature. And Shane is an asshole,” Rick chuckled, forehead almost touching Carl’s as they laughed together. Carl was happy that he could get his dad to laugh even when he was feeling down, that his dad thought he was mature, and he wanted to continue to make him feel better, to help fix his mom and Shane’s transgressions. 

There was just something about Rick’s face, so close to his, that special Rick scent overpowering his nose, the short curls falling in front of the bright blue eyes that were looking straight into his own only inches apart, Rick’s lips curled up in an affectionate smile that made Carl feel like he was the only thing in the world, all these things together, that made Carl do it. He leaned in and pressed his lips to his dad’s, just like he’d seen Shane and his mom do. He’d never really thought about it before but right now it was just instinct. It seemed right, and he thought it would make his dad feel better. 

Unfortunately, the kiss was ended all too soon when Rick pulled away, not laughing anymore, a confused expression on his face.

“Carl, what exactly did you see between your mom and Shane?” Rick asked, seeming almost angry. Not at Carl, but at the prospect of Lori being careless enough to tarnish his innocence. 

“I… I just thought… well, if Mom can’t be there for you… you guys do that right?” Carl was blushing furiously, realizing that kissing his dad hadn’t been exactly the right move.

Rick pinched the bridge of his nose and sighed.

“You don’t understand yet, sport. But I… that’s for your mom and I. We’re gonna work it out. Why don’t… why don’t you go play a little. Don’t go far,” Rick said a little shakily, picking Carl up off his lap, setting him back on the ground, and stalking toward the house, probably to yell at Lori. 

“O-okay,” Carl whispered even though Rick couldn’t hear him at this point. He saw Rick wiping his mouth with the back of his hand as he left, and something inside Carl kind of ached and he almost thought he might cry a little, although he wasn’t sure why. It had been his first kiss.


	3. Affections Grow

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Carl reflects on his dark past and his relationship with his father develops further and he realizes some truths about the depths of his feelings.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> New chapter!! I just really love this ship. Trying to get things moving.

Carl’s fantasies had taken an increasingly dark turn since his mother’s death. Or since he killed her. He didn’t know which phrasing was more appropriate. It kind of made him feel a numb ache inside so he did his best to not ever really think about it. He didn’t know if that made him a bad person inside, considering it was definitely tearing his dad up. The man was going crazy. But everyone dealt with things in different ways, Carl supposed. He felt bad because he knew he treated his mom like crap most of the time, and that there were times where he swore he downright hated her. And then he’d killed her. Obviously not because he’d wanted to, but still, it made him uncomfortable to think about so he just didn’t. Maybe it was an adaptation to this new shitty world that he’d acquired, the ability to just accept and repress. Write it off as shit happens. But he’d never tell anyone that. And he could tell that every time he repressed something else it really did take a piece out of him. Especially this time.

Unfortunately, these events had coincided with the beginning of his ascent into puberty, which was a delicate time anyway. And now this. And his dad was off the wall. And he had a new baby sister to take care of. It was honestly just too much at one time for the growing boy and he felt overwhelmed. Only in his dreams was he unable to block out the thoughts and he’d wake up crying, screaming, thrashing about. He dreamed about his mom, zombified, stumbling after him, or about that horrible gunshot, that final blast that had put an end to her, her head exploding in an all-too-familiar way, stomach cut open grotesquely, the cries of a baby in the background. He’d dream about his father too, sometimes just as he’d pull the trigger his dad’s face would replace his mom’s and he’d cry out but it was too late. His dad was dead too. Or he’d lose his father in the woods, frantically searching for him, only to finally discover him with glazed over eyes, a mindless moan coming out his lips, a bite mark where the old gunshot wound was. He knew he’d lose everyone eventually, was trying to prepare himself for it, but it was hard.

And sometimes, even in wakefulness, if he lost control for one second, one of these images would find its way into his mind. He’d think about a lullaby his mom used to sing him on accident and there it would be, blam, that gunshot, that image. Or his dad would say he was going out on a run and for just a second, when Rick would hug him goodbye, he’d let the thought slip in that this could be their last hug, and he almost loses it. Almost. But to everyone else he seems almost strangely cold and unfeeling about the whole thing. They’re worried about him, but he assures them he’s fine. He’s not going to all of a sudden fall apart, because no matter how scared he is, he actually does still have Rick.

Rick is the one who wraps his arms around his son when Carl wakes up from his nightmares, trying to calm him, holding him close and rubbing circles on his back, whispering that everything is fine, that it’s just a dream. He knows it’s partially because he doesn’t want Carl waking Judith, but he also likes to think it’s because Rick can’t stand to see him upset and wants him to know that no matter how far gone in the head he is, he’ll still always be there to protect Carl. That that’s still his number one priority. At least now that Lori’s dead.

Carl cringes at the thought and pushes it out of his head, instead just focusing on thinking about his father’s bare chest pressed against him, lips so close to his ear and hands running through his hair. Much better. And maybe it’s still not something he should technically be thinking about, but Carl figures it’s better than thinking on the dark times. He thinks about a lot of things he shouldn’t. His father’s newfound brutality doesn’t scare him. It makes him happy. More than anything, he just wants to help in any way he can. He likes holding the gun, taking out the walkers, doing what he can to alleviate some of the burden. But he wants to help in other ways too. He wants to be there for his dad like his dad is there for him. Wants to take up the place his mom left when she died, but he doesn’t exactly know how. He takes care of Judith, does more housekeeping, but he thinks he should be doing more. He’s not sure how to broach the topic with Rick though, not even sure he should, because he knows he’s no replacement for Mom, just like Shane was no replacement for Dad. It might only make him mad. And he’s not even sure what he means when he says he wants to be there for Dad like Mom was. It’s not as if they’re married…

Carl doesn’t know. He just wants to help. He simply tells Rick that he’s sorry Mom’s gone, and that he has him now instead. Rick just smiles weakly and hugs him. Cards fingers through his hair. Carl thinks about kissing him to make him feel better but the thought is fleeting — he still remembers last time, and doesn’t really think Rick would appreciate it. Kissing is something Rick and his mom did. It was a different kind of love. But if Rick did want it, though, Carl knew he would do it willingly. 

Just to help, of course.

……………………………………………………………………………………………………………….

“Dad, when do I get my gun back!?” Carl half-whined, following his dad out to the crops, large brown hat shading his eyes. It was hot and he didn’t want to be farming. He could be out looking for the Governor with Michonne, taking out walkers at the fence, doing anything other than this. This was pointless. 

“Carl,” Rick said sternly, shooting him a warning glare.

“This is stupid,” he muttered, slamming his shovel into the ground. He missed when his dad was insane. This new Rick was all Hershel’s fault.

“Carl.”

“Rick.”

“Don’t talk back,” Rick said harshly, narrowing his glare even further.

Carl sighed but didn’t say anything else, instead digging his holes in a furious silence. Rick watched on but didn’t criticize him further, starting to work beside him. Carl had thought he just wanted to help his dad feel better — but now he regretted it. The older he got, the more defiant. The more sure that he knew what was best and that his dad was full of shit, and he selfishly wished his dad was still depressed about Lori. At least then he wasn’t living in a fantasy. 

Immediately he felt bad for that thought and pushed it away. He didn’t want his dad to be sad, but he knew Rick still had things all wrong. As time went on, his golden of image of Rick, the man who could do no wrong, began to wane, dwindle back to reveal a normal and flawed man. Of course he still thought highly of his father, but their relationship was now less Carl looking up to him with awe and more Carl butting heads with him in sass. But he honestly felt it got them closer. Rick was starting to see him as more of an equal, an adult with a voice in the group, than just a little kid to be protected.

But now Carl didn’t even have a weapon to protect himself.

He slammed the shovel back into the ground extra hard this time and it hurt his wrist.

“Ow,” he hissed quietly, stopping to rub his sore arm.

“That’s whatcha get,” Rick said, although he did stop his own farming to go attend to his son, who was now giving Rick a death glare of his own.

“You’re gonna hurt me worse out here in fantasy farmland than if you just let me live in reality,” Carl grumbled, shaking out his hand.

“Well if you wouldn’t make it so difficult for yourself every day then maybe you wouldn’t get hurt,” Rick said reasonably. But Carl hated it out here. And he had figured out that if he was difficult, Rick gave him more attention. So there was that, too. 

“Lemme see it,” Rick sighed, gesturing for Carl’s injured wrist.

“It’s fine,” Carl snapped.

“Give it here,” Rick said more gently, and Carl sighed, relenting. He was planning on giving it over anyway — playing hard to get was just more fun.

Rick gently gripped Carl’s pale forearm and inspected it, his large, tan hands making Carl’s arm look tiny in comparison. Nimble fingers rubbed at the skin gently, massaging the wrist which didn’t even hurt anymore, but Carl liked the contact so he didn’t say anything. Instead, he eyed Rick’s exposed torso, his button-down shirt unbuttoned all the way to reveal a tan, toned chest and abdomen, glistening with sweat and a little dirt. Carl bit his lip. He could see the muscles working in Rick’s arms as he massaged Carl’s arm, and Carl had to admit that he maybe stared a little too long.

Yes — he had figured it out. His feelings for Rick were a little deeper than mere familial love. And yes, he knew it was wrong. But he’d long since gotten past the grossed-out period, the time where he’d wake up from a dream, dick hard, shuddering because he was freaked out that it had been his dad’s lips on his neck in the dream. At some point, it became like his mom’s death — accepted, and somewhat repressed. Shit happens. No point getting down about it.

Of course, he wasn’t exactly happy about it, but he had tried to shake it and realized it was pointless. Rick was just around too much and the bond ran too deep. He hoped maybe he’d grow out of it someday, but for now it was manageable. It also wasn’t too hard to manipulate little moments like this, little intimate moments where he could imagine how things might be if they were actually in a relationship, what might happen if Rick’s hands moved up to massage his shoulders, then his neck, cupping the back of his head and bringing it forward, head bending down so their lips could meet, innocent at first and then hot and passionate, hands moving down to caress his waist… But that’s all it was — his imagination — and he was forced to return to reality when Rick ducked to catch his gaze.

“Carl? Is it feeling better?” Rick asked, fingers slowing to a gentle stroke on his wrist. He yanked it back.

“It didn’t even hurt that bad in the first place. Stop being so overprotective, dad,” Carl muttered, picking back up his shovel.

“Don’t be a drama queen then, Carl,” Rick joked, reaching back out to palm the back of his son’s neck, slick with sweat, and then sliding down to squeeze his shoulder. “And stop trying to get out of work.”

Carl stuck his tongue out and Rick did it back, causing them to both chuckle together. Carl stared at Rick’s bobbing adam’s apple and gulped, licking his lips. He stared a little too long and Rick cocked his head and gave an odd look, causing Carl to immediately turn his head back to his work, cheeks flushing. Rick chuckled again and bumped into Carl’s side playfully.

“It’s not that bad to be out here with ya,” Rick smiled, to which Carl rolled his eyes. But deep down, a part of him was beginning to agree.


	4. Distraction

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Carl tries to find a way to distract himself from the inappropriate thoughts he has about his dad

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I wish I had the patience to write longer chapters, but I really don't. I also wish the show had more interactions between Carl and Rick, but that's also a hope in vain I think. Ah well, hope you all enjoy this anyhow.

“Where are we going?” Patrick asked nervously, clutching at Carl’s shirt sleeve in a pathetic way that Carl found extremely unattractive. He tried to ignore it though.

“Just a little further…” he murmured, tugging the other boy along as quickly as he could. The further away from the cell block they got, the more Carl’s resolve was waning. Was this even worth it? Patrick’s whining was a real turn-off, and who knew how the boy would react to what Carl had planned if this was how he was reacting to a little walk through the prison. It had been cleared as far as he knew, so why the fuck did Patrick have to act so goddamn scared and wimpy?

“Isn’t this good enough? Why are we back here anyway?” Patrick continued his complaints, still clutching onto Carl for dear life. Carl sighed. This was probably good enough. They weren’t all too far away, but it was unlikely anyone would stumble across them back here, purely by accident. The only potential problem would be if Rick noticed his absence and went looking for him, but something in the back of his mind almost wanted that to happen. So they stayed put.

“Yeah this is good so chill out. There’s nothing back here except us.”

“But why?”

“Because. You told me you wanted to learn how to be more of an adult and stuff. So I’m gonna show you what adults do.”

Patrick gulped and started to look even more nervous, if that was possible.

“We aren’t gonna be… there aren’t any of… you know… _them_ back here, are there?”

Carl wondered how these people had ever survived.

“No, there aren’t any walkers back here. I’m not trying to kill you,” Carl rolled his eyes, wishing there was someone else, anyone else, who could do this for him. Why did it have to be Patrick? “Like I said, it’s just us back here.”

“O-okay. What are we doing then?” Patrick said, calming down but still noticeably unsure.

Carl stood on his tiptoes, suddenly feeling a little unsure himself, leaned forward, and kissed Patrick on the cheek. He’d never kissed anyone but his dad that one time, and it was barely a peck. Thinking about it was a lot different than actually doing it. Kind of embarrassed, he stepped back again and watched Patrick’s face for a reaction.

A deep blush colored the taller boy’s cheeks.

“What was that for?” he sputtered, a hand reaching up to touch his cheek where Carl had kissed him as if that would reveal some inner truth to the ordeal.

Carl rolled his eyes again, but felt some slight satisfaction at the obvious naiveté of his friend. He liked feeling superior to the other kids in the prison, as if he was a man and they were all children, and this was just another thing he could hold over them. Not that he had any real experience in this area either, but at least he wasn’t almost trembling like tomato-faced Patrick over there.

“Like I said, adults do it. Well, they do it on the lips mostly, but I didn’t wanna scare you.”

“Carl, you always scare me,” Patrick muttered in response, causing Carl to smirk with satisfaction. He liked the feeling of being powerful. But at the same time, Patrick’s subservience wasn’t really what he was after if he was trying to get a distraction from Rick. Whenever he imagined those things that shouldn’t be mentioned, Rick was obviously the dominant figure, bigger, stronger. He was the one with the power. This was all wrong.

“Do you want me to _really_ kiss you or not?” Carl huffed in annoyance, growing impatient with the entire situation. The longer it went on, the more hopeless he felt.

“Y-yeah, if… if you want to,” Patrick said, eyes meeting Carl’s with… wait. Was that… eagerness? Carl sincerely hoped not. Nevertheless, he shrugged and went on tiptoes again, pressing his lips to Patrick’s. It was weird, for sure. He tentatively wrapped his arm around Patrick’s neck, more to hold himself up there than to increase intimacy, and tried opening his mouth a little bit like he’d seen the adults do, trying to coax Patrick to do the same.

His tongue was in the other boy’s mouth for maybe two seconds before he pushed himself back. Ugh. Wrong. Definitely wrong. There was no scratchy stubble rubbing at his face, no strong hands rubbing over his body, gripping his hair, no firm, muscly body pressed into his. It was just Patrick. Poor Patrick, who at this point was staring down at Carl almost adoringly.

“Wow, that was cool,” he smiled, cheeks still flushed.Carl grimaced.

“Yeah, uh, that’s it. We should probably go back now,” he said, immediately turning on his heel to head back towards the main part of the prison.

“Wait, Carl!” a hand shot out to grab his sleeve again and he had to restrain himself from shaking it off. “There’s gonna be more lessons, right? You’re gonna teach me more adult stuff?”

“Maybe.”

And with that, Carl lead them out of there for good.

……………………………………………………………………………………………………………

“See you tomorrow Carl! Maybe we can hang out b-“

“Yeah, bye,” Carl cut him off, entering the cell he and Rick shared, shutting the bars behind him. Patrick stared longingly for another second before leaving with sagging shoulders.

Rick turned to Carl with a slightly disapproving look.

“What?” the boy said, crossing his arms and raising his eyebrows.

“At least try and be nice.”

“He won’t leave me alone!” Carl cried, throwing his hands up in the air in exasperation. “He follows me around all day like a lost puppy.”

“I have noticed he’s been hangin’ around you a little more’n usual,” Rick said, chuckling, “but you still gotta be nice.”

“I kissed him and now I think he’s in love with me,” Carl groaned, putting his head in his hands while Rick spit out the water he’d just drank and started convulsing with laughter. Carl glared.

“Why are you laughing? It’s not funny!” he huffed in annoyance.

“Sorry, sorry,” Rick composed himself, clearing his throat, still obviously trying to contain laughter. “Why, uh, why’d you kiss him if you don’t like him?”

“Distraction,” Carl mumbled, making his way over to sit next to Rick, who immediately curled his arm around the boy’s waist, pulling him close.

“Distraction from what?”

“The person I really like,” Carl almost whispered, keenly aware of the fingers pressing into the soft flesh of his stomach.

“Oooohhhh Carl has a crush,” Rick teased, watching a faint blush make its way across the young boy’s cheeks and neck. “Why didn’t you just kiss them then?”

“They’re off-limits,” Carl said glumly, resting his head on his dad’s chest, letting Rick start sifting his fingers through his hair in that all-too comforting way.

“Well, who is it?”

“Can’t tell.”

“Aw come on Carl, you can tell me,” Rick encouraged, genuinely curious, subconsciously letting his hand drift down to Carl’s neck, letting his thumb rub small circles in the skin.

“Nah, it’s embarrassing,” Carl refused, feeling his face heat up even more at the thought of actually telling his dad that it was in fact Rick himself.

“More embarrassing than telling me you kissed Patrick?” Rick started laughing again until Carl shot him another death glare.

“That’s not embarrassing because it didn’t mean anything.”

“Fine, fine,” Rick acquiesced, “you’re still young though, you’ve got time to figure it all out still. Don’t get down about this mystery man. Or woman. You’ll find the right person at the right time.”

“I already know exactly what I want,” Carl said steadily, peaking out from under dark lashes to gaze into his father’s eyes. They held each other’s gaze for a little too long, Carl’s bright blue eyes boring into Rick’s matching set, close enough that Carl could see Rick’s pupils dilate slightly as they looked at him, could see the small flecks of darker and lighter blue, and some odd sort of tension was building that Carl knew wasn’t exactly comfortable, so he eventually averted his gaze and rested his head back on Rick’s chest.

There was a prolonged silence before Rick cleared his throat and put in his last word.

“Only thing I’ll say is that if it’s Daryl, I’m killin’ him if I ever catch y’all kissin’,” and with that he burst into renewed laughter, breaking all lasting effects of the weird tension.

Carl mock-punched his dad in the shoulder, laughing too.

“Ew dad, that’s gross!”

“Ooowwww,” Rick feigned pain, rubbing his shoulder. “Damn Carl, I think you’re growin’ some muscles there.”

“I do have muscles! Look,” Carl protested, raising his arm and flexing as best he could. Rick reached over to wrap his hand around the skinny bicep, squeezing.

“Mmhmm I definitely feel some muscles in there,” he said, causing Carl to grin proudly. He knew his dad was just appeasing him, but it still made him feel good anyway. “Come here.”

He felt Rick’s hand lift his head up so he could press a kiss into his cheek, a rare form of affection from his father that Carl relished. Smiling, he lay down to go to sleep with Rick’s arm still curled around him. And when Rick was asleep, he lifted his hand to his cheek, feeling the skin as if it would allow him to feel his father’s lips again, just as Patrick had done.

In a couple days, Patrick was dead.


End file.
